Slade Wilson and Nightmare
by Gallowscalibrater
Summary: Slade has a little talk with his new apprentice.


A door opens and a small body is thrown to the ground with a dull thud. The form lays there not moving as a second figure enters and shuts the door behind them. As the small figure struggles to move, they are quickly picked up.

"Ah ah ah. We wouldn't want a repeat performance now would we? It would be a shame to have to damage you more my dear girl" the larger figure smirks as his hand is clamped around the young girls short obsidian hair as he forces her head back joyfully.

"God dammit Slade. Let me go or I swalear to god I'll-"

"You'll what?" Slade questioned as he set to tying her hand to an overhanging pipe. "Fight me? Again? And lose? Again?"

Her efforts to escape are soon quelled by the satisfying click of handcuffs closing around her wrists. She is forced into and erect position by her arms being forced above her head. As much as she struggled the pipe was well secured and the handcuffs, well made.

"You only win because you cheated."

"I am offended, my dear." Slade said feigning horror. "My integrity would allow no such thing."

"You drugged me you sadistic bastard!" Punctuating this sentence with a luge at him she was deterred by her arms nearly beig wrenched out of heir sockets. She fell limp against her bonds, wincing. "Damn- you- Slade." She managed to choke out between gasps and clenched teeth.

"Well now you've gone and hurt my feelings. I drugged you to protect you! If we had fought I might have hurt you. And we couldn't have that know could we... Keira."

She cringed at the use of her real name.

"Don't call me that." She spat out at him. No one called her that, no one since Robin.

"It's better than that absurd name your given yourself. 'Nightingale' please. The bird theme is so tired."

He turned away from the glare that was being shot at the back of his head and thanked god for his mask. He didn't want her to see the true anger he had felt when he learned she had taken up that name for her current boyfriend. He stepped across the room and retrieve his weapon of choice. A large knife that could easily cleave a human skull in two. Turning back around to face her he couldn't help but smile beneath his mask. She wasn't like the other Titans. Her black and purple uniform hung loose on her body. It consisted of shorts and a t shirt that normally could have been passed off as normal clothing, if it wasn't for the huge symbol of a bleeding nightengale on the skirt and the black utility belt that was every assassins dream.

"I guess we'll start there." He purred and in one fluid motion and stepped across the room, cutt off the belt, and flung it to the side. "Consider this your initiation."

She cringed away from his touch and he frowned at the hatred he saw in her face.

'I suppose we shal have to work on her respect for me' he mused to himself as she glared from behind the oil-slick black mask that covered her eyes and cheek bones. Of course to be more cliché the mask was too in the shape of a nightengale.

"Initiation for what, Slade?" She said looking up at him rather cooly. He could sense she was furious but she displayed no emotion. It was as if a switch had flipped in her a suddenly all of the previous anger turned into ash.

"Why, being my apprentice of course." Slade was pleased to see that she lost control for a minute and tensed up her hands. The clank of the handcuffs against the metal pipe rang throughout the small room.

"And what in hells name makes you think I'll do that you slimy low down son of a-"

He slappe her, then said nothing. Letting the sting across her face be the punctuation on the fact he would not tolerate rudeness.

"First of all, I suggest you keep a civil tounge in your head, girl. And second of all, you will be my apprentice because you want to."

Still recovering from the slap, she simply snorted. Some of the fire seemed to slip out I her and she glared at the floor. Slade took his knife and casualy slit through her shorts, they fell to the floor and Slade smiled as he was what they revealed. Her ass was covered in a pair of black lace panties and she had a tramp stamp of what speared to be two birds locked on a fight. Above it was stenciled "Robins Girl" in black scripted letters.

"I can see your devotion to your beau." He felt a mix of emotions. Anger at the fact she had Robins name on her, pleasure at the fact she was obviously submissive to men, and a rage of hormones which could be attributed to the erection now threatening to burst from his costume.

"Shut up." She muttered and he noted with a tinge of pleasure that he had caused a flush of red to invade her ivory cheeks. He also noted that unlike most super heels she was not grossly skinny. She was far from being fat or even pudgy but her well tonned legs showed the effort of work outs, not starvation. He raised the knife and it slowly sliced through her shirt. Smiling he ripped the shreds of her costume off, and started to examine her body. He stopped short when he noticed an abundence of scars cries crossing her torso.

"What are these." He asked softly.

"Robin..." She paused and then took a breath. "He got angry sometimes."

Slade turned his back on her, agin thankful for the mask. He had to take several deep breaths and subdue the anger shooting through his body. Forcing himself to relax his muscles, he thought things through. Her heavy breathing brought him back, and he turned to face her again.

"Liar."

"What?"

"Robin, does not wield knives, swords or anything of the sort. On a secondary note, the reason for this is that he can not stand the sight of blood. I do my homework, Keira, do yours."

More silence in which Slade saw the resolve sappig out of her form. She finally spoke, when doing so she never took her eyes off the floor.

"They're from me, ok? Happy now? Now let me go or give me back my clothes."

"What an odd request. If I give you back your clothes, does that mean you'll say?"

Silence.

"Yes. Just give me my shirt back."

"Why."

"I don't want anyone to see my body!" She finally burst out wih and her head jerked up to meet Slades eye. He stapled forward and demoed her mask, she provided no struggle. His eye met hers and he could see a panic begin to form in the purple lumenecint iris'.

"Really. Why not? It's a perfectly good body." Slades voice dropped to barely above a whisper and his hands brushed against the raised scars, making her frame shudder. "Is it your scars?"

"No. It's my body." She was attempting to glare at him but the roaming hands seemed to distract her. They often brushed to close to her panties or bra in which case she would suck in air twice as fast as it needed to be. Abruptly he stopped and turned around. He removed his mask and placed it on a nearby table then turned back to face her.

"There. Does that help? Now I'm a little more.. Vulnerable." He drew out the last word and saw her phial ally shudder from the impact. He leaned down and a lock of white hair fell between his eye and hers. She noticed that although he had pure white hair he couldn't have been older than 25. His piercing blue eye reminded her of lighting or fire. Finally he reached up and undid one handcuff. She dropped, but before she could hit the floor he and grabbed her and recuffed her hands behind her back. Then, spinning her around he met her lips wih his own and her body stiffened with the shock of close contact. Soon however she softened her posture and he took this as incouragement to pull her body closer.

His lips felt full of rage and his arms gripped her tighter then she was used to. With Robi. He had always kept a distance, been polite. Now she felt his full burning. Passion and it scared her and drew her in simultaneously. When he broke the kiss she was left panting and unable to breathe more than shallowly.

He stared into her eyes for a moment longer and then a smile broke out on his face.

"A few things will change. First we will get rid of that horrendous mark on your back."

Keira nodded. She had no objections and even if she did she would have been unable to voice them.

"Second, you are to address me as 'Master' or 'Sir' and nothing more"

A thrill coursed through her. She but her lip and stared up at him.

"Third your name shall no longer be Nightengale."

He laid her down on a mat tucked into the corner and retrieved a costume for the table. It was tight black spandex sure to show of her muscular curves. On the front nothing more that an 'S' with dripping blood obscured the material.

"Your name shall be Nightmare."


End file.
